


To Which We Celebrate

by 1thy_truth_is_won0



Series: in which everyone lives [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-03
Updated: 2011-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-24 06:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1thy_truth_is_won0/pseuds/1thy_truth_is_won0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three occasions that has cause for celebration: Merlin, why is it that whenever a woman goes into labor, you believe the most appropriate action is drinking to the point you cannot remember your name?</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Which We Celebrate

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, BBC does.

**A Birth**

 

Merlin gulped down the ale.

 

“Sure you don’t want any?” He asked, lifting the tankard.

 

Arthur starred at the empty vessel and then at his increasingly inebriated friend.

 

“Merlin, why is it that whenever a woman goes into labor, you believe the most appropriate action is drinking to the point you cannot remember your name?”

 

“Drinking ale is for big occasions,” Merlin replied plainly, “This is a big occasion. Have some, you’re about to become a grandfather.”

 

“I rather meet my grandchildren sober.”

 

A heavy march of footsteps came, and Arthur saw that his three sons had entered the parlor. Llacheu made it a point to be by the window, while the younger Gwydre slumped into the chair next to Arthur and Duran merrily sat next to him.

 

“Gwy, fancy a drink?” Merlin offered.

 

Gwydre grabbed the tankard and downed its contents without a breath. Once done, he slammed it on the table.

 

“Need another?” Arthur asked.

 

“Father, she is in agony. She screamed as if she’s being tortured.” Gwydre lamented, and motioned for more ale.

 

“He snuck into the birthing and saw a bit,” Duran explained, “Mother had to throw him out, but it was enough to get him like this.”

 

“Why?” Merlin asked, refilling Gwydre’s cup.

 

“He wanted to know how Morfydd was and was not satisfied with what the midwife, the nurses, or Mother was reporting to him.” Llacheu responded calmly.

 

Gwydre ran his hands through his flaxen head. “There was blood everywhere! And the screaming...”

 

“She’s pushing out your offspring through a very tiny opening. As natural as it is, I don’t suspect child labor is kind to any female,” Llacheu said.

 

“I wonder how you will be once Argante is whelped!”

 

Arthur stepped in, “I am sure Morfydd is doing well. She is in good hands. There is very little you can do and you can’t stop it. Just let it happen.”

 

“Your father has a point,” Merlin added,” This is a good day! Drink, for your sons’ coming into the world!”

 

Gwydre pushed away his drink, “I’ll do that when I get the news that Morfydd and the twins are fine.”

 

Duran then looked at the discarded tankard, “Father, could I?”

 

Arthur was a year younger than his youngest boy when he started, so he nodded his permission and Duran sipped the ale. He coughed at the strong taste and grimaced as he swallowed and coughed more.

 

“You’ll get use to it, being an uncle and all.” Merlin reassured.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

Merlin did not answer Duran, only started singing about barmaids.

 

“Aprons and all…”

 

“For god’s sakes, you’re a grown man,” Arthur scolded the sorcerer.

 

“So I’m allowed to drink without a telling off,” Merlin argued.

 

“You are never old enough to be reprimanded by your king. Now give me that, you are cut off.”

 

Time passed, hours until the dawn peeked out. Guinevere came before her family, looking bedraggled and joyful.

 

“Gwydre, you have two healthy boys, just as Morfydd said. She wants to see you now.”

 

At the announcement, Gwydre jumped out of his seat and ran, possibly all the way to the birthing room to his wife.

 

Arthur welcome the embrace Gwen gave him.

 

“We have grandsons Arthur,” Gwen rejoiced, “Morfydd is tired but very happy and very relieved. Oh and the little ones, they are beautiful.”

 

“Yeah! We’re uncles Jack!” Duran called to his brother.

 

Llacheu smiled at his youngest sibling, “I heard.”

 

Gwen frown upon seeing the tipsy youth and the tankard in his hand, “Duran, have you been drinking?”

 

“Yeah,” Duran said honestly, “Merlin said it was for celebrating and Father said I could.”

 

Gwen glowered at her husband.

 

“I was not much older than he was when I gotten some ale. And neither were you,” Arthur defended, “Elyan had told me about your antics at harvest festivals.”

 

“Very well,” Gwen backed down, “We will discuss this later, but for now, Duran hand me the ale. It’s been a long day.”

 

Merlin, who was now face down at the tabletop, threw an arm over and slid down a jug.

 

“Thank you,” Gwen poured herself a cup.

 

Arthur stared at him. “I took all the ale, where did you get that?”

 

“I’m magic Arthur. I can conjure up a jug of ale if I want.”

 

“Where is Vivienne?” Arthur turned to Gwen, “Maybe she can knock some sense into her idiot father.”

 

“I’m here.” Vivienne called, wiping her hand on her blood splattered apron, “What’s Father done now?”

 

“Got sloshed.”

 

“Only that?” The young woman took away the jug from her father.

 

“Love, how are the new parents?” Gwen inquired.

 

“Morfydd is still tried, and Gwydre is at her side, the very portrait of a new father.”

 

“Terrified?” Arthur presumed.

 

“Overwhelmed and needing a drink?” Merlin added.

 

Vivienne quirked an eyebrow, “He is very happy and excited. He’s all over the twins and Morfydd.”

 

“So better outcome then when he was there earlier?” Jack walked away from his window.

 

Vivienne nodded as she poured herself some ale. When Merlin tried to take the jug back, she slapped his hand away.

 

Moments later, Gwydre came back looking absolutely frazzled and idyllic. He headed straight to the nearest full tankard, and ignoring Duran’s complaint of his stealing his ale, took a swig. Once done, he looked to the whole room, “If you want, you all may meet the twins now.”

 

He then turned and left.

 

Jack turned to his slightly intoxicated sibling, “Duran lets go meet our nephews.”

 

“Right,” Duran left his chair and joined Llachue, “Can we do this again when you and Argante have a child?”

 

“Drinking? Maybe, if you are of age.”

 

Arthur and Gwen got up the, arm in arm and followed their sons.

 

Merlin stayed behind, no longer able to lift up his head and his daughter patted his back.

 

“Really Father, are you going to be like this when Lanval and I have our child?”

 

Merlin was not sure what she meant, at least he did not think so. It sounded like it had to do with his only daughter, her husband, and if she was suggesting what he thought she’s implicating, then…

 

“What?”

 

“I should probably tell you now then.”

 

Merlin did not faint or fall at the news. He can say that at least.

 

 

**A Coming of Age**

 

It was not difficult to find him. She had spotted him earlier sneaking out of the hall, an hour ago and when no one was really noticing. The scenario was familiar to her, as it happened in many past occasions. And it was just as Guinevere thought, her son Llacheu was at the west lower tower. He rested on the roof, as if he wasn’t hundred feet from the ground and staring at the sky.

 

“Jack?’

 

At the sound of his name, he looked down.

 

“Hmm? Yes?”

 

“The banquet is ending. You will be needed.” Gwen explained her intrusion.

 

Llacheu was able to see past that. “Checking up on me?”

 

“I am your mother.”

 

Her son smiled, “I thought I was of age now.”

 

“You will be an old man with no teeth; I will still be your worried mother.”

 

He laughed at that, “I’ll come down.”

 

With quick and practiced ease, he climbed down. He went over to a corner where a deep red cape and a thin golden crown rested. Gwen could not help but laugh at his hastily throwing the items on and resulted in a haphazard crown prince.

 

“Let me,” She fasten the cape back on his shoulders.

 

Llacheu had to lower his head for her to straighten the crown. Gwen was again thinking how her sons all of sudden dwarfed her. Even her youngest, Duran, was a head taller than her and able to even lift her in great strong bear hugs. Well, suppose that was in the blood- Arthur was always tall and imposing, despite his most inane moments, not to mention all the men in her family were hardly runts.

 

And Llacheu was no exception, for he was the tallest of his siblings. But he was also the most quiet and reserved. Which was why it was no surprise to catch him leaving the crowds and seeking solitude and silence. His nature demanded it.

 

She finished her fussing, and Llachue stood up again. The moonlight glinted against the crown and his dark eyes. His expression was as solemn as always but seemed to have more weight to it now and his composure was centered and straight.

 

Gwen felt a ping in her heat and moisture developing her eyes, “All grown up.”

 

“Mother.”

 

“And still climbing up the castle to look at stars,” she joked.

 

Llacheu amended, in a heavy tone, a sad one. “Not so much now.”

 

“Thinking about anything up there?” Gwen gently asked.

 

Llacheu was quiet, thinking, measuring and selecting words carefully.

 

“Nothing specific,” he finally replied, “Just needed a break from it all. Saw the tower, and… Amhar and I did it so many times… and I thought about that.”

 

He touched his crown, as if finally noticing it, as if as if the weight was too much to bear.

 

“It hasn’t been too long, when you think about it, and I… I still feel like I’m standing in for him.”

 

“Has anything been said to suggest this,” Gwen tried to not feel for moment and focus on him.

 

“No,” Llacheu said sternly, “It just that had things been different, if he was still here, this would be his day. Not mine, never mine.”

 

Gwen believed she understood what her son was trying to say, trying to feel.

 

About life changing forever and painfully and wondering about the different paths if taken. About finding oneself in a position that never was expected to be ever, and wondering if it could be done, and done right. Once she was a serving girl, then fell in love and become queen. And she wondered in those early times if she was doing the right thing, accomplishing to the best of her abilities.

 

Once he was a second of her four sons, always by his elder brother’s side. Sneaking out of banquets and meetings together and climbing up the tower roofs to look at stars. He was an heir, but it was not expected for him to take the throne. It was always thought that he would only to assist his king and brother. Then Amhar was… no longer with them, and Llacheu had to become a leader. A knight leading his men.  A light in the shadows.

 

And he did all that.

 

And she could not be prouder of him and more afraid for him.

 

But what can she tell him at present? That she and Arthur were proud of him? That she had her doubts when she took position as wife and queen? Arthur was always unsure of himself when he was a prince young king? 

 

Gwen took her son’s hand and with a steady breath she said, “Amhar would be very proud of you.”

 

For he would, truly.

 

Llacheu gripped her hand and she believed she saw a smile. Maybe an expressing of content and release from grief and doubt. They stayed like that for maybe a second or an hour, before they broke from it and left the tower.

 

**A Wedding**

It was either a very short engagement or quite a long one, either way it was not unwelcomed and rather expected. So they married, because they did not want to wait not anymore.

 

After the vows were exchanged, their names signed on an official parchment and wine drunk, the bride and groom were led by their wedding party. In the tavern was their reception, a great one, for the room was filled from the ground upward with people raising their cups and giving out a thunderous cheer at the sight of the newly wedded.

 

And among these guests, were the king and his queen.

 

Arthur and Guinevere sat a little way from the acted as the main table, containing Hunith, Merlin and Gaius along with his bride Alice.

 

“They look so happy.”

 

Arthur looked up from his tankard and to his wife. He then studied the now married couple. He had to agree with Gwen. Gauis and Alice looked years younger and flying on clouds, never taking eyes off of one another.

 

“They should be. Their betrothal lasted about thirty years.”

 

Gwen light slapped his am and laughed.

 

It was touching to see Gauis this happy, to see two people together at last and have their happy ending.

 

Gwen soon got up to join in a dance with Merlin, then Gwaine when Merlin was taken away by a pretty girl, a relation of Alice, if Arthur remembered correctly.

 

He remembered something else.

 

He thought of the time when Gauis served his father and worried about Merlin while Alice was off god knows where, evading capture. He did good and she did good, but they were never together. It was the time when Gwen was in rough yellow clothes and thought Arthur as a bully and pigheaded. She was right, of course, and he was too blinded to even notice her.

 

And now, he earned her love and her respect. She was his queen, dressed in resplendent lavender and by his side.

 

Gwen, bright-eyed and exhausted, returned to her seat. Once she did that, Arthur gave her a long and deep kiss.

 

“What was that for?” Gwen asked a moment after it was over, too soon for the both of them, “Not that I minded.”

 

“It’s in celebration of better times.” Arthur answered.

 

“May we have another so more can follow?” Gwen leaned closer to her husband.

 

Arthur replied by taking her lips again, and for much longer time.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
